beejohnlocked:

johnlockfulfillment:

thetwelfthpanda:

A camp gay and a grumpy bisexual

@thetwelfthpanda

“John, something’s wrong?”

John’s eyes snaps up from where he was watching (staring at) Sherlock’s arse and feels himself blush slightly.

He clears his throat, “I’m fine.”

Sherlock smiles, “You seem, well, tensed.”

John pretends to look back at his newspaper, hoping his trouser are hiding his blooming erection, “You still haven’t clean the kitchen table.”

He hears more than he sees Sherlock sighs and he glances back up at him curiously. Sherlock’s eyes are no longer fixed on his phone, but on the wall in front of him, lost in his thoughts. John can’t help himself, and his own eyes fall back on the curve of Sherlock’s arse, his dressing gown hanging loosely on his sides.

The next time Sherlock speaks, his voice, deeper than usual, makes John’s entire body shivers, “You’re staring. Again.”

John doesn’t look away this time, and holds Sherlock’s stare. They both remain silence for long seconds. Sherlock smiles. John does too.

“What if I am?”

Sherlock’s smile grows wider, but John sees him shiver too. He puts the papers aside. Sherlock doesn’t say a word as he walks toward him, stopping between John’s open legs.

John is certain his heartbeat must be echoing in the room. Or maybe it’s Sherlock’s. It doesn’t matter, John thinks, and he pulls on Sherlock’s dressing gown, bringing him down until he can taste Sherlock’s smile.

PAULINE god damn you this is perfect